Tonal range a Czech cellist's crowning glory

The early career of the cellist Milos Sadlo, who has died aged 91, was a triumph of talent and toil over adversity. Having taken up the instrument only in his mid-teens, he developed into the most significant Czech player - both as a soloist and in chamber music - since the cellist-composer David Popper (1843-1913) and Hanus Wihan (1855-1920).

On the way, he changed his name twice. Born in Prague as Milos Blaha, when his mother married, he became Milos Zatvrzsky, an appellation even Czechs found hard to pronounce. He received no musical inspiration from his family, but at eight started playing the violin. "I was always looking for some musical instrument which was the cheapest. We couldn't afford a piano. We lived in one room."

When Milos was 13, his stepfather abandoned the family and went off to Argentina. "One of my friends bought a cello and we started a quartet, but in a very amateur way." At 15, Milos himself took up the cello and had the good fortune to meet Karel Pravoslav Sadlo, an inspirational teacher. "For me, K.P. Sadlo was really my father. After two years, I took his name as a stage name, and in 1929 I took it altogether."

Living in the master's home, he worked so hard - "I did 10 hours' work a day, taking on any programs; Sundays, holidays meant nothing to me" - that within three years he had played the Dvorak and Jaroslav Ridky concertos on the same night with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra.

At 19, he joined the great Prague Quartet, and in 1932 went to London with them; aside from their concerts, they made a recording of Dvorak's G major quartet, Opus 106, which has not been surpassed. Sadlo learnt an enormous amount, especially from the violist Ladislav Cerny, but in 1933 quit the quartet. "I realised I could either be a soloist or a chamber music player," he said later.

By 1937 he was back in London, making his solo debut as a prizewinner in the Vienna cello competition. But the decisive break came when the violinist Jan Kubelik turned 60 in 1940: 10 Prague concerts were planned, and Sadlo was asked on a Thursday if he would substitute for the ailing Kubelik on the Sunday. That was the start of his fame. "Especially during the war, I had to play the Dvorak somewhere almost every month," he recalled.

He also, in 1940, joined the Czech Trio. Soon after Shosta- kovich's E minor piano trio came out, the Czechs toured Russia and were able to try their interpretation on the composer. "He said it was all wrong, but the next year I was invited to play it with him and David Oistrakh."

The performance, at the 1947 Prague spring festival, was followed by recording sessions at which Shostakovich played once only, so Sadlo had to get the tricky opening, in harmonics, right first time. He succeeded so well that Oistrakh asked to play the Brahms double concerto with him in the 1950 Prague spring festival - again a recording followed.

After 15 years, Sadlo left the trio "because I felt I had finished with that kind of work. I couldn't improve myself, I couldn't develop. I had to go to [Pablo] Casals." He spent half of 1955 in France, seeing Casals three times a week. "It was the best experience I ever had. I was old enough to know what I needed to learn from him, but not to copy him. I found an amazing amount of fantasy in him."

Above all, the visit deepened Sadlo's vision of the six Bach solo suites, though the year brought another crucial friendship as well. "I got invited by Rafael Kubelik to go to the Besancon festival, where he was performing the Three Frescoes Of Piero Della Francesca, which Bohuslav Martinu had written for him. On the way there, I met Martinu on the train."

Sadlo premiered the revised version of Martinu's first concerto and was promised the second (in the event, it went to Pierre Fournier); he became identified with the second sonata, which he included in a 1959 London recital. From 1957 to 1960, he deputised for Josef Chuchro in the Suk Trio, and he later played in the Prague Trio and the Prague Chamber Trio.

Sadlo's technical command was sovereign, but even more extraordinary was the range of tone colours he drew from the cello. His Czech or world premieres included the concertos by Khachaturian (1947), Vladigerov (1949), Bace- wicz (No.1, 1951), Kalabis (1952), Rezac (1963), Sommer (1981) and Smolka (1982).

He brought unknown classical works to the fore, notably Haydn's C major concerto, unearthed by a Prague librarian in 1961. Sadlo gave the first modern performance, produced an edition and made a superb recording; he also edited concertos by old Czech masters such as Antonin Vranicky and Josef Reycha.

More extensive editing was provoked by Dvorak's early A major concerto, abandoned at the score stage. With Jarmil Burghauser, Sadlo evolved a slightly cut version, orchestrated in Dvorak's style and with the cello part redistributed to give the soloist breathing spaces. He took conducting lessons from Vaclav Talich and made one recording as a conductor, though he was never tempted to take this avocation further.

His many records as a cellist included concertos by Shosta- kovich, Khachaturian and Honegger, a fine set of Bach's suites, Kodaly's sonata and solo sonata (approved by the composer) and much chamber music. His interpretation of Dvorak's B minor concerto, which alone marks him as one of the elect, was set down in 1976.

In the Shostakovich concertos, he approached Rostropovich's achievement. "I fell in love with the second concerto. It is so strange. I have a feeling that it is the real soul of Shostakovich, the soul of a man who is suffering." He played Britten's cello symphony and the Elgar and Walton concertos, and was fond of the orchestral rhapsody that Jiri Pauer wrote for him in 1962.

In view of his eminence, it was particularly crass of the Czech communist regime not to make Sadlo a national artist. Outside his own country, he was better appreciated. Having started teaching in 1950 at the Prague Academy, he several times substituted for Janos Starker at Indiana University; he also taught at San Diego University and adjudicated in competitions all over the world. Those who met him found him a thoroughly sympathetic person, and a good companion with a ready sense of humour.